Tell age, it daily wasteth; Tell wit, how much it wrangles In tickle points of nicenesse; Tell wisedome, she entangles Herselfe in over-wisenesse; And if they do reply, Straight give them both the lye. Tell physicke of her boldnesse; Tell skill, it is pretension; Tell charity of coldness; 40 45 50 Tell arts, they have no soundnesse, But vary by esteeming; Tell schooles, they want profoundnesse, If arts and schooles reply, 65 Tell faith, it's fled the citie; Tell how the countrey erreth; So, when thou hast, as I Commanded thee, done blabbin, Although to give the lye Deserves no less than stabbing, Yet stab at thee who will, 70 75 V. VERSES BY KING JAMES I. In the first edition of this book were inserted, by way of specimen of his majesty's poetic talents, some Punning Verses made on the disputations at Stirling but it having been suggested to the editor, that the king only gave the quibbling commendations in prose, and that some obsequious court-rhymer put them into metre;1 it was thought proper to exchange them for two Sonnets of K. James's own composition. James was a great versifier, and therefore out of the multitude of his poems, we have here selected two, which (to shew our impartiality) are written in his best and his worst manner. The first would not dishonour any writer of that time; the second is a most complete example of the bathos. A SONNET ADDRESSED BY KING JAMES TO HIS SON PRINCE HENRY: From K. James's works in folio: Where is also printed another called his Majesty's own Sonnet; it would perhaps be too cruel to infer from thence that this was not his Majesty's own Sonnet.2 1 See a folio intitled, 'The Muses welcome to King James.'-2 See Washington Irving's paper in the Sketch-book, 'A Royal Poet.'-ED. GOD gives not kings the stile of Gods in vaine, If then ye would enjoy a happie reigne, Observe the statutes of our heavenly king; And from his law make all your laws to spring; Since his lieutenant here ye should remaine. Rewarde the just, be stedfast, true and plaine; A SONNET OCCASIONED BY THE BAD WEATHER WHICH HINDRED THE SPORTS AT NEWMARKET IN JANUARY 1616. This is printed from Drummond of Hawthornden's works, folio: where also may be seen some verses of Lord Stirling's upon this Sonnet, which concludes with the finest anticlimax I remember to have seen. How cruelly these catives do conspire! What loathsome love breeds such a baleful band Betwixt the cankred king of Creta land,1 That melancholy old and angry sire, And him, who wont to quench debate and ire 5 Among the Romans, when his ports were clos'd?2 But now his double face is still dispos'd, With Saturn's help, to freeze us at the fire. 1 Saturn.-2 Janus. The earth ore-covered with a sheet of snow, 10 Curs'd be that love and mought' continue short, Which kills all creatures, and doth spoil our sport. VI. K. JOHN AND THE ABBOT OF CANTERBURY. The common popular ballad of King John and the Abbot seem to have been abridged and modernized about the time of James I, from one much older, intitled, King John and the Bishop of Canterbury.' The Editor's folio MS. contains a copy of this last, but in too corrupt a state to be reprinted; it however afforded many lines worth reviving, which will be found inserted in the ensuing stanzas. The archness of the following questions and answers hath been much admired by our old ballad-makers; for besides the two copies above mentioned, there is extant another ballad on the same subject (but of no great antiquity or merit), intitled 'King Olfrey and the Abbot."2 Lastly, about the time of the civil wars, when the cry ran against the Bishops, some Puritan worked up the same story into a very doleful ditty, to a solemn tune, concerning 'King Henry and a Bishop,' with this stinging moral: 'Unlearned men hard matters out can find, When learned bishops princes eyes do blind.'s The following is chiefly printed from an ancient black-letter copy, AN ancient story Ile tell you anon Of a notable prince, that was called king John; And he ruled England with maine and with might, For he did great wrong, and maintein'd little right. 1 i.e. may it. See the collection of Hist. Ballads, 3 vols. 1727. Mr. Wise supposes Olfrey to be a corruption of Alfred, in his pamphlet concerning the White Horse in Berkshire, p. 15.-3 The story of this ballad is found in an old Saxon book, called the 'Adventures of Howleglass,' 1483, and also in a collection of Spanish novels, 1576.-ED. And Ile tell you a story, a story so merrye, An hundred men, the king did heare say, 'How now,' father abbot, I heare it of thee, 'My liege,' quo' the abbot, I would it were knowne, 'Yes, yes, father abbot, thy fault it is highe, 5 10 15 20 'And first,' quo' the king, 'when I'm in this stead, 25 With my crowne of golde so faire on my head, Among all my liege-men so noble of birthe, Thou must tell me to one penny what I am worthe. 'Secondlye, tell me, without any doubt, How soone I may ride the whole world about. 30 And at the third question thou must not shrink, |